


Pretend to be pretending

by guardiansofthefantasy



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: A Date, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, M/M, a bit angst, but i promise it's sweet, idk what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 15:12:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13766811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardiansofthefantasy/pseuds/guardiansofthefantasy
Summary: Simon really needs a date for the Valentine's Party at his father's company after he and Agatha broke up.So he asks the only person in the company he would like to go - and claims it's just for the advantages. (Namely, both of them having a date.) No feelings or anything included.Except it's not quite the truth.





	Pretend to be pretending

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Livesinbooks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livesinbooks/gifts), [Mathmagician](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mathmagician/gifts).



> I gifted this to you two because you helped keeping me motivated (without noticing) and making me want to write Snowbaz. Thank you!
> 
> Here's a Snowbaz (Valentine's Days) oneshot that got slightly out of hand. (It also wasn't supposed to be about Valentine's Days. It's not a big topic either, promise.)

* * *

 

Do you ever make a decision and just after you decided you already know you will regret it for the rest of your life?

Yeah, admittedly, I may exaggerate and be dramatic again. But I really regretted it. (For a while at least.)

(Okay, for a few moments. But that can feel like a long time!)

 

* * *

 

 

**Simon**

I'm panicking. My father just told me I have to show up with a date on the Valentine's Day party of our -- his -- company. (Just because I'm his son I'm expected to take over the company when I'm older. He doesn't stop telling me.)

My ex will also be there. I definitely need a date. She probably has someone. I have to ask Baz before she does. She's most likely to ask him out.

 

I chew on my lip while standing at his desk.

“What is it, Snow?,” he asks bored. That's good. He's just as usual. I can do that. I think.

 

Just to make that clear: I don't _actually_ plan on asking him out. (I don't like him like that. I think. It only confuses me the longer I think about it.) I'm just hoping for him to agree to be my pretend-boyfriend, just so my father finally stops asking when he's gonna meet my new girlfriend. (I don't have one. I have no idea why he thinks I do.)

And it would piss my father off, too. Baz of all people. He only accepted him in his company because there was no reason _not to,_ except for his personal hate and dislike.

It's not because of Agatha. I don't want to make her jealous or anything like that. I just don't want to be the one of us who looks like he hasn't moved one. Because I did. I mean, I'm over her.

 

“Snow?” Baz sounds annoyed and crosses his arms. (He's not a necessarily muscular guy, but he's working out. It's not visible, but I know he does. I've seen him hanging around there.)

“Yes. There's this Valentine's Party, right?”

“I've heard about it.” He sounds bored again.

“Right. Anyways, I'm expected to show up with a date.” He raises his eyebrow and his lips twitch into a smirk.

“Really?,” he asks unimpressed, “what a surprise.”

I groan frustrated and stop playing with the hem of my shirt. “Yes. Anyways, since my ex-girlfriend is there, I was kind of hoping… you could, well, you know, accompany me. Because… you don't have a date either.”

“Who says I'm going?,” he asks and I frown. It's not like he has a choice. Everyone's expected to come. Especially him, since my father hates him enough already.

“Well, you have to,” I say slowly. He rolls his eyes.

“Who says I don't have a date yet?,” he sneers. I must look very confused.

“You -- I mean --”

“What, Snow? Didn't expect me to be able to find someone?”

I chew on my lip. “You don't have a date,” I say certain and he pouts. (He's the only one who doesn't look childish or silly while doing so. I envy him.)

“How would you know?,” he asks challenging and I smile a bit.

“Why would someone ask you?”

“Why did _you_ just ask me?” He's got a point there. I did, after all, ask him on that date. I shrug. (He hates it when I'm shrugging. Sometimes I do it just to piss him off.)

“Cause I need a date. With my, uh, ex being there and all.”

“And why exactly do you think I care?,” he says, leaning back over his desk and sorting his papers. _Rude,_ I think.

“Because you don't wanna be there alone either?,” I ask and shift my weight on the other foot. He snorts.

“I don't want to go with you just to make your ex jealous,” Baz says without even looking at me. “I'm not going there with you. I don't wanna be your boyfriend, Snow. Pretend or not.”

I frown, then I shrug. “Alright. I'll ask someone else then.” He pauses in his motion for a second, before he continues as if nothing happened. I wait for a bit longer, just in case he changes his mind.

“Anything else?,” he asks and throws me an annoyed glance.

“No,” I mutter and he nods.

“Good. Why are you still standing there then? Forgot the way to your office?” I glare at him shortly, before I turn around and leave.

 

 

**Baz**

 

I regret it almost instantly. How high are the chances that Snow will ask me on a date ever again? Very very low.

Then again, it wasn't an _actual_ date. He didn't ask me to be his _real_ boyfriend. Just pretend to make his ex jealous or something like that. And I don't want to be part of that.

 

I never liked his girlfriend, ex or not, they didn't...fit. Sure, they've been the number one couple in High School. (We didn't go to the same school, but my sister was on the same school as them and apparently they were the couple voted to be _most likely to stay together for 20 years_.)

But I still wasn't a huge fan of their relationship, even though Snow was happy. (Of course I want to see him happy, no matter who's the reason for his happiness, but _I_ want to be the one to make him happy.) (Okay, I really only disliked their relationship because I was jealous.)

 

Anyways. Now -- instead of going with Snow which would've been an absolute delight -- I'll have to see him going with someone else. (Pretending, but with someone else nevertheless.)

 

I think declining a date with Snow was the stupidest thing I've done so far. And there's no way of fixing it. (Well, I could go and ask him. Tell him I changed my mind. But that would totally humiliate me and my pride. A Pitch doesn't do that.)

I really want to, though. I mean, go for a date. Pretend or not. (Doesn't pretending to be together end in an actual relationship most of the time?) (I wonder if Snow knows that.) (For a second I allow myself to think that's the reason he asked me in the first place.)

 

I look over to his office, getting distracted by the plants behind the window for a second before I look at him. And I swear he was looking at me before, because he quickly looks away. (And is he blushing?) I'm making things up again.

It wouldn't be hard. I could just get up and walk into there and tell him I've changed my mind. (It would only be hard because I had to get over my pride.)

I could use some of his stupid courage now. He probably had to gather a lot himself to ask _me_. And all of a sudden, just like that, I feel bad. Crowley knows how much it took him to ask me. (I've never been the nicest to him after all.) And I just said no and turned his efforts into dust. (Poetic, Basil.)

It would only be fair if I walked over there and told him a pretend date doesn't sound too bad. Maybe if I keep telling myself I only do that to be nice, it won't hurt my pride. (Or heart, if he does the same to me.)

 

I get up and stand at my desk for a moment. Then I start feeling stupid, so I slowly start to make my way over to Snow’s office. Well, there's certainly no turning back now.

He looks up when I step inside.

 

“Mr. Pitch.” I almost laugh at that formality. He usually doesn't call me by my last name. And definitely not that cold. (I think he's actually _mad_ at me.)

“Snow,” I reply and close the door behind me. He narrows his eyes.

“How can I help you?” I don't really want to ask him anymore. My courage somehow disappeared within seconds again.

“You can't,” I says and turn around again. What a terrible idea. I reach for the door knob when Snow has to say something again.

“Baz? Why did you come here?” I stop. Then, I slowly turn around. (I should've thought about something to say before I came in.)

“To pay you back for annoying me before this day.” He frowns a bit, thinking about what I said. (I hate it when he does that. It's too cute.)

“Are you done with that then or do you want to ask something, too?,” he says and there's this hint of a smirk. (It shouldn't look so attractive.) When did he learn to be so sassy anyways?

“I might have a question, but you're the last person I'd ask.” He tries not to show me how that hurt. (I know that because I've seen that look in my eyes too often before I practiced in front of the mirror not to let it show.)

“Why are you still here then?,” he asks and it's only a little bit cold, but enough to make me want to step back. I don't. Even more so, I take a step closer to him and smirk.

“Maybe I hope you take that pressure of asking from me.”

He shrugs. (Crowley, I hate it when he shrugs.)

“Tell me, why should I do that?” (Is he playing with me? I probably shouldn't enjoy it as much as I do.)

“I thought because you're a nice person,” I say, taking utter interest in the way my fingers trace the wooden cupboard a bit away from his desk.

“Just shoot, Pitch,” Snow sighs, “I still have work to do.”

I raise my glance a little and tilt my head casually. “Oh, I was just wondering if you still need a date for Friday,” I shrug.

He looks at me surprised and I stop patting on the cupboard and turn to him instead, crossing my hands behind my back.

“Cat got your tongue?” He still hasn't answered but raises an eyebrow at me now. (I wasn't aware he could do that. How dares he stealing my gestures?)

“Why would you ask me that now? I just told you I still need a date. And you said no.” I wasn't expecting something like that. I was expecting him to smile so bright the sun would get jealous -- he is really good at that -- and agreeing. Well, I should've expected him to feel betrayed and tricked. (I would probably say no just because of my principles and pride.) (That thought alone makes me a bit nervous again and I desperately reach for my courage.)

“Well, I… didn't see the advantages of going with you.”

Snow furrows his brows. “Which would be?”

I shrug. “Oh, you know… pissing off your father.” I pause and tilt my head smirking a bit. “And probably getting fired for dancing with his son.”

Snow rolls his eyes. “You're not getting fired. And I didn't say we'd dance.” I pout.

“But I only agree for dancing.”

He leans on his desk and looks at me. It's a bit too intense and I tilt my head into the other direction.

“Fine,” he agrees, “even though I can’t dance.”

“Doesn't matter. I'll guide,” I say casually. I love the way he stares at me. “What?,” I ask, “didn't expect me to be able to dance?”

He leans back again and grins. “We'll see if you _really_ can dance. You can say a lot now.” I smirk a bit more. (It's almost a smile. I have to be careful and think about my pride.)

“It's a date then,” I say and turn around again. When I turn back to close the door, I catch him smiling content at his papers.

 

I have a date with Simon Snow. Aleister Crowley, I'm living a charmed life.

(Let's pretend for a second we're having an actual date and don't do it to make his ex jealous or his father angry.)

 

 

**Simon**

 

I look up once I'm sure he's back at his own desk. I can't believe he asked me _despite_ saying no when I asked him. (It's probably a pride thing. He can't accept people asking him out or something like that. Always has to ask them himself like a bloody gentleman.)  
But I'm not gonna complain about it now. I'm excited. And I have a date with Baz. (Just like I hoped.)

I can't wait to go home that day. I can't wait to tell my mum about it. (Luckily my father doesn't come home until late evening and leaves early in the morning.)

 

 

My mum is delighted. (First I thought she's more excited than I am, but then I only had two hours left before I had to leave and figured out that I'm much more nervous and excited.)

I mean -- a date with Baz. I didn't realise I even have a chance. I mean -- I must have, right? He wouldn't have agreed if I didn't. That's what I think, at least. And I hope I'm right. (I really wanna have a chance.)

“When will I be meeting your date?,” my mother asks, helping me with my tie.

“He said he'll pick me up at 4pm,” I say and try to stand still.

“We're gonna make pictures,” she says grinning and I roll my eyes.

“Fine. But only if Baz agrees.” She smiles. She clearly doesn't believe he'd disagree. (I'm worried he will. I do want pictures of this date. Just so I can pretend there has been _something_.)

 

 

Baz wears a suit. It's not a foreign sight to me, we have to wear suits in our office too. (I don't wear a suit. I should, but I don't. My father argues a lot with me about it.) But for some reason it looks different today. Maybe because it's not the company suit, but a wonderful deep green one. It suits him unbelievably good. (I should ask my father to change the colour of the company suits to such a rich and dark green.)

I almost feel a bit boring with my simple grey one. But he looks at me and smirks.

“You don't look that bad in grey.” I think that's a compliment. And the only one he ever made me. But it's enough to make me feel great and even more excited.

“You don't look that bad either,” I reply and smile at him. (He seems like he's constantly torn between looking at me a bit too long and avoiding to look at me. I'll take it as a good sign.)

“Okay… do we go?,” he asks and my mother sees that as a perfect moment to interrupt.

“You're not leaving without letting me take a few pictures,” she says and smiles brightly. (I think she's proud of me? It's a great feeling. I wish my father would be proud sometimes too.)

 

Baz wraps an arm around my waist as we pose and I decide that we'll definitely dance later. I really hope I have a chance.

 

 

 

**Baz**

 

Somehow I get the feeling Snow is actually excited. It's… well, it's nothing new. Snow is excited and happy a lot. But it's hard for me to concentrate. (Something inside of me tries to convince me that it's because he's going with me. I try not to listen to it. Because it's _Snow,_ he's always excited. Not because of me.)

“You wanna look for your ex? To… you know, show her how happy you are?,” I suggest slowly. (I need to keep my hopes down. And remind myself of the reason I'm going with him.)

Surprisingly, he shakes his head. “No. I'd rather look for something to eat.”

Of course. I have no idea why I'm even surprised. (Maybe because I was so sure it's all about making his ex jealous. Maybe it isn't?)  
I follow him -- he's not holding my hand or arm. I wish he would. But who knows? Maybe there'll be more unexpected things happening today.

 

It's not as bad as expected. Despite it being Valentine's Day and there not being any alcohol, it's quite okay. Snow spends the whole time by my side smiling brightly enough to make the sun jealous (and my heart go wild.) His father -- my boss -- walks by a few times and sends disapproving glances my way. He reminds me of my father.

 

Snow doesn't mind. He's talking about anything and nothing and I find myself listening attentively. (Normally, it would annoy me.)

“So…,” he asks after a while and after his twenty-first scone. (I've counted, and unless I missed some while I was distracted by his smile, it was his twenty-first.) “Are you gonna ask me to dance or not?”

I look up at him, surprised. “Just so you can step on my feet?”

“No, to give you a chance to prove how great you are at dancing.” He looks absolutely serious. Crowley, Snow. We can't just dance. But then again, what's speaking against it? And _he_ asked _me_ after all.

“Okay, but that's gonna be hard with you stepping on my feet,” I say and he grins. I don't like it. (The way he grins, that is. It's made of un-Simon-like trouble. I love seeing him grinning though.)

“Why are you so convinced I'm bad at it? Maybe I've practised.” He takes my hand and pulls me to the dance floor. (Now he's actually holding my hand. Aleister Crowley.)

 

I'm very convinced Snow _did_ practise. There's no way this could be what he calls “I can't dance.” No effing way.

 

 

 

**Simon**

 

Baz is a really good dancer. I'm not even sure why that surprises me, now. There's nothing Baz _isn't_ good at.

I used to be really mad about that.

Right now, I can hardly think of anything other than his hand on my back and his face so close to mine. Not only his face, his whole body actually.

It's unbelievably distracting.

 

“Tell me something,” I say quiet enough for only him to hear. He cocks an eyebrow at me.

“And what would you like to hear, Snow?” It's funny how he says it so polite and yet so mocking. I think I kind of fall in love with it.

I shrug. “Anything.”

He seems to think for a moment. It looks so mysterious. And goddamn attractive. Good thing we're _dating._ Even if we're not.

 

And then he starts telling me about his cats. I have no idea what to think of that. It's probably the topic I expected less. But I'm not going to complain. I love listening to him.

His voice isn't sneering at me for once, it's not mocking or snarling. It's actually soft and a bit absent and he's _smiling_. And I know I'm lost.

 

He loses track at some point and stares a bit behind me before he regains his train of thought and keeps telling me about how cats are cuddly and cheerfully and how misunderstood by many people.

When we turn -- we're still dancing, I kind of forgot about it after a while -- I notice Agatha. Just for a brief moment. And I don't really feel anything. I give her a smile and she smiles back and that's it. But it must be what distracted him for a brief moment.

Agatha isn't worrying me. She has been merely an excuse to ask Baz out. And it's not like we had a nasty breakup. (I actually wasn't even noticing we were breaking up until she said it clearly again.) Anyways, the two of us are fine.

 

Baz is still talking about animals when we're heading back to the buffet to eat more scones (in my case) and some of the other things there (in Baz’ case). I don't mind it. He's never been talking to me that much before. And it's adorable how obsessed with animals he is.

 

My father is still wandering around. He keeps sending me disapproving glances, but I hardly care. He's not really coming home anyways, so why should I?

“Snow?”

“What?,” I ask, focusing on Baz. I must have zoned out.

“Should I stop talking?”

“Since when do you care about my opinion?,” I ask, slightly amused.

“Since we're on a date, stupid,” he says and shakes his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, but it's only pretend,” I say shrugging and immediately regret it. He kind of flinches, though I suppose it's suppressed. And I think there's a bit of hurt flashing in his eyes shortly, but then it disappears again.

“Right,” he says and then I _know_ I said something wrong. He sounds so cold again, but not cold... more dry and hurt.

“Do you… wanna go dancing again?,” I ask and he raises an eyebrow, slowly.

“Even though it's all only pretend?” Now it sounds cold.

I nod. “Because dancing doesn't feel like pretending,” I say. Maybe I'm kind of trying to save things here. Because I doesn't want it to _stay_ pretend.

 

 

 

**Baz**

 

I agree and offer him my hand again. Because I'm weak. And I'd probably take every chance to dance with him. Because I'm hopelessly in love and want this to be my destiny. I want him to date me. That's all I want, just one small wish.

And I hope I'm on a good way here.

 

We're dancing quietly this time. I think Snow is scared to annoy me more. Which is funny, because he usually doesn't care about it. But I think he wants to make sure not to say wrong things anymore.

Maybe it's all a bit more important to him than I thought it is? I hope so. That means I have a chance.

 

“Made your girlfriend jealous yet?,” I ask a bit snippy, because I kind of went into defence mode.

 _“Ex_ -girlfriend, and no,” he answers and I look down at him and notice how he avoids me. And he has his forehead scrunched up, which is way too cute.

Then we're quiet again. Usually I would love it. But not like this, it's too forced and awkward and tense.

“Sometimes we find neglected cats in the forest behind our house,” I say slowly. “But we can't keep them all, of course. We always make sure they get good homes.” I trail off.

But I think it worked. I keep telling him about the cats we found and what he called them and how we nursed them back to help. He watches me smiling. (That's all I want, honestly. The way he looks at me. Like I hung the moon.) (Which I didn't. That was my mother.)

 

I think we're fine now. We're having a conversation. (Not only about cats anymore.) And we're still dancing.

 

 

**Simon**

 

“You really _are_ a good dancer,” I point out at some point.

Baz smirks a bit. “I told you that.”

“I didn't believe you,” I shrug grinning.

“So… how's your Valentine's Day?,” he asks and it seems so casual. I don't know how he manages to stay so casual.

I don't know what to answer, so I'm just fidgeting with words for a while. I'm afraid to say something wrong.

“I… I think it was the best one I've had yet.” I probably shouldn't have said yet, right?

“What, it's better than those with your girlfriend?” He seems a bit surprised but cocks his eyebrow at me at the same time.

“I never danced on Valentine's Day before,” I say slowly. His lips twitch a bit. I think it might be a smile.

“Because you can't dance, Snow,” he says teasing.

“Is that why you've been dancing with me for hours?,” I shoot back. He chuckles and tips his head in my direction. He can actually be cute. I think I love him.

“No, I've been dancing with you for hours because ‘dancing doesn't feel like pretending’,” he says and he sounds honest and sheepish and at the same time blunt. I'm definitely in love.

And I can't stop smiling.

“I know,” I say, “it feels real. Like we're on a date.”

“That's because we _are._ Pretend or not, it counts as a date,” he says and shakes his head annoyed. (I'm not sure if he's really annoyed though. I don't think so.)

I just smile. Because I can't stop. And because it's a date. And I don't want it to end.

“How do you know a date is over?,” I ask therefore and I feel how he pulls his hands back for a brief second, before he just keeps his grip loosened.

“Is it that bad in your eyes, Snow?,” he asks and raises an eyebrow. I think it's supposed to sound mocking. It sounds more offended, actually.

I shake my head. That stupid wrong choice of words. Happens too me way too often. Especially if things are important.

“No. It's… exactly not. And I want to prevent it from feeling like it's over,” I say quietly. I swear he's humming happily.

“Really, Snow,” he says, it's amused and certainly not a question. “Never expected you to say that. To me, of all people.”

I grin a bit. “Well, I never expected you to ask me out either.”

 _“You_ asked _me_ out,” he says firmly, but I see his eyes sparkling. I think that means he's smiling but it hasn't reached his lips yet.

“And you said no,” I shrug, “but I guess you’re right. I asked you out.”

“Just… without reason?,” he asks a bit challenging.

“I told you why.”

“To make your girlfriend jealous. And yet, you haven’t sent her one look since we walked in. Not to mention that she didn’t look at us a lot either.”

“You were stalking my ex-girlfriend?,” I ask indignantly. I can’t believe it.

“Yeah. She’s a pretty girl, Snow. Hard not to look at her.” I was thinking I really had a chance with him, and all he wants is _Agatha?_ One of us really wanted to make her jealous, apparently. And it’s obviously not me.

I swallow. (I can feel his eyes on me. A few moments ago I would’ve found it flattering, now it just makes me want to punch him.)

“Snow? No defensive comeback?”

“Just shut up,” I say and entangle myself from his arms. (It’s hard.)

 

He grabs my wrist and follows me with quick steps.

“Where do you think you’re going?,” he hisses quietly as we pass the door.

“Home. Why do you think you gotta follow me?,” I hiss back, trying to get my arm free from his grip.

“Because you’re my date, Simon Snow, and that means I’m not letting you go home without bringing you.”

I scoff and finally manage to get my arm free.

“Would you at least tell me what’s wrong?,” he asks and his eyes look so somber it hurts.

 

So I kiss him.

 

 

**Baz**

 

 _Simon Snow_ is kissing me.

Simon Snow is _kissing_ me.

Simon Snow is kissing _me._

 

That’s pretty much all I can think right now. And of course I’m kissing him back. Who knows if I’ll ever get a chance like this again?

He looks at me a bit puzzled when we’re both catching our breaths.

“What?,” I ask, just to provoke him.

“You kissed me.”

 _“You_ kissed _me_ ,” I correct him, raising my eyebrow at him. He really is thick.

“Right. But you kissed me back.”

“You’re really fast, Snow,” I mock and he grasps my collar a bit tighter -- I didn’t quite notice he grabbed it.

“Shut it -- _why_ did you kiss me back?,” he asks, a bit firmer this time.

“I don’t know, Snow, why should I kiss you back?” He groans frustrated and I smirk.

“You’re --” He decides not to continue and instead kisses me _again_.

Aleister Crowley, I really am living a damn charming life.

 

Of course, I kiss him back. And the next time, _I_ kiss _him._

It’s definitely worth the smug grin on his face. “So you _do_ like me.”

I roll my eyes and gently push him away from me.

“You’re so unbelievably thick, Simon.”

 

Of course I like him.

He laughs and takes my hand.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m kind of falling in love with you, Baz.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for taking the time to read this!  
> I'd love feedback or just comments and kudos, of course - as every writer does.  
> But thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!


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